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Tucking another flower into his headfeathers, Stolas considers his reflection. The lavender sprigs pop nicely against his blue-grey feathers and he decides to add one more, intertwining it with the fluff above his head. Almost like a braid, if his feathers could hold that shape.
Looking down at his chest, he tilts his head and considers how else he might decorate his body. Chirping to himself, he digs through his jewelry box until he finds a few clips. Then he rips open a portal to his garden – a dramatic gesture, sure, but he’s not about to walk through the entire palace to get there – and plucks a few nasturtiums. The blooms are bright red, the color of passion. How perfect.
Using some eyelash glue, he attaches the flowers to the clips and then pins them in his chest feathers, almost where nipples would be, if he had them. Chittering with his glee, he saunters over his red robe and slides it on, tying it at his waist.
Tonight’s theme is gardening, and thus there won’t be any need for Stolas to wear anything but his feathers and the flowers. Blitzø will be playing the part of the dashing gardener and Stolas will be his garden, his flower, ready to be plowed and seeded.
Stolas’ feathers puff up pleasantly and his cloaca pulses, already excited to see his darling. These full moon nights are the highlight of his life, the one special thing he has each month to look forward to. And Blitzø is always just so charming, so willing, always able to make Stolas’ fantasies come true in the most enticing ways.
Stolas peeks at the clock on his wall and then sighs. Still so many hours until Blitzy would be here…
He wastes some time in his library, studying up on constellations and doing whatever work he can without the Grimoire. Still, time passes in a slog. It always does, when he’s waiting for Blitzø to arrive.
Sometimes he feels like he’s always been waiting, as foolishly romantic as that sounds. He can’t quite pin down what he is waiting for, but he feels it deep in his chest. A longing he feels he was born with, intertwined in his very blood, bone, and magic. The only thing that settles the quelling pull are these beautiful times with his Blitzy.
Finally, it is nearing the end of Blitzø’s workday and that means he will be arriving soon. Stolas decides to conjure another portal to the garden, this time stepping through. He supposes it would be smart to see to all his plants before Blitzø arrives. The last time one had playfully nipped at the imp, Blitzø had sworn it was trying to eat him. Humming, Stolas waters and feeds each of them, hoping to avoid that tonight. After all, Stolas never wants Blitzø to feel uneasy during their nights together.
That settled, he crosses to one of the larger flower beds in the garden, deciding that this would be the spot for tonight’s main event. He weaves some magic through the flowers, encouraging them to bloom and sparkle prettily. He removes his robe and portals it back to his room before laying down in the soft dirt, arranging himself in a few different poses. He opens his Sinstagram and takes some photos with his arms stretched above his head, his mouth open in an elated grin.
Settling back into the dirt, Stolas swipes through the photos. He frowns as his gaze skitters across his own body – his arms, his torso, his spindly limbs sitting awkwardly amongst the flowers. His feathers so dull in comparison. He swipes back to the main app and scrolls through his feed. His thumb pauses as he sees a new photo from Blitzø, just posted a few minutes ago. The assassin is dressed in his usual work attire, squatting in a dynamic pose. His elbow is leaning on a frankly giant pair of shears, the clippers dotted with bright red blood.
Stolas giggles to himself, clicking on the photo twice to leave a little heart. The caption says someone named Moxxie took the photo and mentions Stolas, his name is written there with a silly quip about trimming his hedges. Stolas’ talons scrunch in the dirt and he opens up the comment box, beak digging into his lip as he considers what to write.
My garden is blooming and ready for you, Blitzy! is what he settles on. He kicks his feet as he presses send and then swipes back to his own profile. He looks around and grabs a few more flowers, closing his eyes and putting them over his face. He takes another photo and then checks it quickly, some of that earlier insecurity rearing up again. He decides to post it anyway, just for the chance that Blitzø might see it. He sits up, shaking the flowers off of his faceplate, and even adds a funny caption about plowing his garden, though he is certainly hoping the plowing will be quite serious.
He swipes back to the app and refreshes, even though he knows Blitzø might not see his photo right away. Still, his heart squeezes in his chest as he waits.
After a minute or so, he rolls his eyes at himself and puts the phone down on the ground. He moves his eyes over the sky, tracing the outline of Pride’s bright red sun. A ping makes him lurch for his phone again, scrabbling in the soil, and he clicks his phone awake to see three notifications from Sinstagram.
Chirping loudly, he opens the app and sees that Blitzø answered his comment.
Rdy to gt tht fethurred ass plowed?
His Blitzy had written something almost exactly the same as him – had he seen his photo? His caption? Stolas hoots and rolls over onto his stomach, giving his tail some space to tremble and fan out the way it wants to. If Blitzø was here, he’d be able to see the fluffy mound between Stolas’ legs, the spot where his slit is just visible, already glistening and waiting.
The fact that Stolas is here, outside, naked and exposed where anyone could see him… stars, it makes his stomach tighten and the muscles of his thighs tremble. He imagines what Blitzø will say when he sees him like this. Call him all those sexy names? Sneak up on him? Maybe say that Stolas looks beautiful?
Perhaps Stolas was not kidding when he said his garden was blooming. He blushes and clicks on the second notification, which is Blitzø liking his photo. The third is a comment from his lover.
O haha I sed teh same ting. B ther swoon.
Stolas’ stomach is full of flutters, like tiny wings are just sweeping and flying in his insides. He rolls back over and settles himself among the flowers, hoping to look appropriately attractive for his Blitzy. He swipes over to their text thread.
Come straight to the garden when you arrive! No need to climb the banister today. ;)
Blitzø does not answer, probably because he’s driving. Speeding, hopefully, just as excited as Stolas is for their night of passion. Stolas runs his hands over some of the flowers next to him, the petals soft between his sharp talons. His hand moves, runs down the length of his body, but he stops. He isn’t touching himself until Blitzy says so. The wait is terrible, though, and his impatience makes him squeeze his thighs together harder.
Blitzø finds him there, fantasizing with feathers spotted with specks of dirt. Stolas leans up on his elbows to watch him pace through the garden, the heels of his boots clicking against the cobblestones. He walks so smoothly, so assuredly, and Stolas nearly drools just looking at the set of his shoulders, the peek of a fang when Blitzø catches him looking.
“Hello, Blitzy!” Stolas greets, sitting up further.
“Hey, Stolas,” Blitzø says, his voice loud in the air between them. As he gets closer, Stolas spots the coil in his right hand, some kind of rope. He moves his eyes back to Blitzø’s face just in time to catch the way the imp’s gaze skips down his body.
Stolas smirks and lays back, stretching his arms and his legs out. When he looks at Blitzø again, he spots a bulge at his hips. “My, Blitzø, is that a trowel in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Uh, I didn’t bring a… whatever you said,” Blitzø says, and his cheeks are getting darker. A blush, if Stolas isn’t mistaken. “Didn't bring the shears either, just used ‘em for the picture.” Blitzø pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry, I can go back and–”
“I’m just teasing,” Stolas interrupts, the grin not leaving his beak. He reaches forward and points at the ropes in Blitzø’s hands. “You did bring something special though, hmm?”
“Oh, yeah,” Blitzø says, holding the coil up between them. Stolas sits up properly so he can run his talons over the texture. The ropes are like vines, almost, decorated with small leaves. “I thought these would, uh, fit the theme?”
“Very nice,” Stolas simpers, gripping the ropes and using them to tug Blitzø closer. When he’s seated like this, he actually has to look up at the imp. “I did get a bit… excited waiting for you, darling.” He opens his legs, showing off his cloaca and the wetness already collecting there.
“Oh yeah?” Blitzø says, shifting forward. Stolas’ head is at his waist, the perfect height for Blitzø to grab at his headfeathers and tilt his face back. “Getting started without me?”
“No, I didn’t touch myself,” Stolas says, eyes falling half-closed. He adjusts so he’s on his knees, sitting down on his haunches, just like Blitzø taught him. “Not without daddy’s permission.”
“Good boy,” Blitzø says, his voice dipping low and dark. It makes Stolas shiver, his tail tremble. That tone means they’re really getting started. “For that, you can have one reward. You choose what we do first.”
“Tie me up?” Stolas asks, his voice a whisper, his head already floaty and slow. Syrupy from the heat in Blitzø’s gaze, the heat coming off his body. Blitzø nods and walks around him until he’s at Stolas’ back, one claw tracing across the top of his shoulders. Carefully, he pulls Stolas’ arms behind him, bending them and tying his forearms together. He doesn’t stop there, though, looping the rope around Stolas’ chest, up across the space between his neck and his shoulder. He does the same on the other side, and Stolas can almost picture the kind of star-like design against his back, trapping his forearms against his back. He wonders if Blitzø did that on purpose, but doesn’t let it take too much of the moment away from them.
art by @HellaBitterHaze
Blitzø pulls on the tie a few times, testing the give. “Comfy?”
“Good,” Stolas says, nodding. Blitzø walks back around. Stolas tips his body forward, nuzzling his forehead against Blitzø’s coat. “Off?”
“I said one reward, didn’t I?” Blitzø asks, pulling him back with a hand on his chin. “You want me naked that bad, hmm?”
“Very much so,” Stolas says, nodding so fast his head bobbles.
“Mmm, but you’ve got a garden that needs tending, right?” Blitzø teases. He kneels on the dirt in front of Stolas. “Lay back, birdy.”
Stolas does as he asks, settling on his back. Without Blitzø needing to ask, he opens his legs and wiggles his hips. Blitzø smirks and runs his claws down the outside of Stolas’ thighs, the sharp points digging in pleasantly. Blitzø leans forward, using his hands on Stolas’ knees as a crutch, and lays a truly filthy kiss on Stolas’ beak. Deep enough that Stolas feels it down to his bones, down to his core, feathers fluffing up with his arousal.
Blitzø moves down to his neck, the kisses turning into nipping bites and then something deeper, sharper, his teeth digging in at his clavicle. Stolas gasps out a breathy moan, tilting his body up for more contact. Anything, anything, he’ll take anything that feels this good.
Blitzø huffs out some kind of sound, kind of like a laugh, and moves further down. He nuzzles into the fluff at Stolas’ chest, pulling up abruptly when he nearly inhales a flower petal.
Coughing and sputtering, Blitzø turns to the side and spits the petals out, frowning with his eyebrows scrunched. It’s so adorable, Stolas can’t help but giggle to himself.
“Too many flowers, Stolas,” Blitzø grouses with a roll of his eyes. “Gonna choke on one of these.”
“They are edible, just so you know,” Stolas says, wiggling his eyebrows. “No harm will come to you, should you eat a petal or two.”
“They taste like perfume,” Blitzø says, flicking his tongue out a few times. “Besides, I know something I’d much rather eat.” His grin after that is almost feral and Stolas’ next giggles die in his throat, some form of oh please squeezing past his beak instead.
Quick as lightning, Blitzø is between his legs, pushing them even further apart to make room for himself. He’s on his belly in the dirt and Stolas almost feels bad, almost tells him to be careful of his coat, but every thought leaves his mind at the first touch of Blitzø’s tongue to his cloaca.
“Oh, Blitzy,” Stolas whines. He wishes he could reach down, grab at Blitzø’s horns, pull him deeper, but he can’t. All he can do is lay there while Blitzø teases the bumps at his entrance, flicking the forked end against them until they harden. Stolas cants his hips up, eager for more, and Blitzø slips his tongue inside. Deep, the way only he can, touching the places only he has.
Stolas’ first orgasm is a blur, wrung out of him with that talented tongue at his most sensitive nerves. He’s already lost track of his words, his beak open in a constant stream of gibberish and pleading. When Blitzø presses a claw inside, Stolas sings his pleasure, the sound high and thin.
“You sure are wound up today,” Blitzø says, watching Stolas’ face carefully as he slips another claw inside. “That hungry, birdy?”
“Oh, I’m desperate,” Stolas says. “I need you to plow me, fertilize me, bury your seed deep, deep inside until I–”
“Alright, alright, I got ya,” Blitzø says, pulling his fingers away. He’s not stretched Stolas out, not completely, because he knows Stolas kind of likes when the first press of that glorious cock kind of stings. Blitzø’s hands are at his pants, undoing the buttons and the zipper, and Stolas hoots when his cock springs out, hard and swollen at the tip.
Even though he doesn’t need to, Blitzø always checks. “Ready?”
“Yes, yes, please,” Stolas begs, able to do nothing else but wait, his feathers getting as dirty as he feels. Blitzø pushes inside without preamble, the first thrust deep but slow, careful. Blitzø is always so careful, even though Stolas tells him can take it, likes when it hurts, likes when it feels like his cock is making a home for itself in his insides.
“Fuck,” Blitzø groans deeply, his voice gritty. “Shit, you’re tight.”
“For you,” Stolas adds, pushing his hips down. His head is light, weightless, but he manages to lift it so he can look down his body. Yes, yes, there at his stomach, there’s the bulge, the imprint of Blitzø’s cock, visible from the outside. Stolas clenches his inner muscles and grins when the added grip makes Blitzø whine and pause his movements. It makes Stolas feel powerful, that he can make someone as surefooted as Blitzø falter.
“I promised you a good plowing, didn’t I?” Blitzø says, eyes on the bulge at Stolas’ stomach, too. Their gazes flick up at the same time, yellow meeting red, and then Blitzø is rearing back and delivering a hard thrust, deeper than the first.
Stolas is lost from there. The way they fit together, the way that Blitzø’s spikes drag against the walls of his cloaca, it all just overwhelms his senses. Blitzø presses inside until Stolas can feel the fabric of his pants bumping against the damp feathers between his legs, finally full.
He comes at least twice more before Blitzø lets go, flooding his insides with his release. They’re both panting at the end, Blitzø pulling out much, much too quickly for Stolas’ liking so that he can help Stolas sit up from the dirt. Stolas shivers as he registers the feeling of Blitzø’s cum leaking out of him and onto the flowers below. A special fertilizer, he titters to himself. Behind him, Blitzø unties the knots in the vines and then rubs at Stolas’ wrists, his shoulders. The ropes did not harm Stolas, they didn’t even twinge, and his arms are barely sore from the position, but he lets Blitzø complete his ritual all the same.
When he is done seeing to Stolas, Blitzø looks down at his clothes with a frown. There’s dirt sticking to his coat, his elbows, the knees of his pants.
“You can remove those and I’ll have them cleaned,” Stolas purrs, running one talon down Blitzø’s chest.
“Still trying to get me naked, huh?” Blitzø teases, but he dutifully begins taking off his work clothes. He’s wearing his customary turtleneck underneath his coat, the material tight to the muscles on his stomach.
“Well yes, of course,” Stolas says, shrugging his shoulders demurely. He lays back in the dirt in what he hopes is an alluring move, eyes tracing each new patch of skin as it’s revealed.
Blitzø throws his clothes to the side, the fabric hitting the cobblestones with a soft thump. “We squished your flowers, birdy,” he says, pointing to the ruined stems and petals around them.
“Oh, I don’t care,” Stolas says. He picks up a few of the loose flowers and starts weaving them together in a crown. “The energy will be good for them.”
Blitzø doesn’t say anything, just flops down in the dirt right next to Stolas. Stolas finishes up the crown and holds it out in front of him, smiling slightly. He’s made many flower crowns in his life, but this one is particularly special. A line of nasturtiums and pansies in red and white, a perfect match for his lover.
Turning to the side, he places the ring of flowers around Blitzø’s forehead, completing the last weave at the back of his skull, just under his horns. When he backs up to peer at Blitzø’s face, he finds that the imp is staring at him, his gaze almost soft.
art by @HellaBitterHaze
Their eyes meet for a moment, and then Blitzø looks away.
Stolas looks down at his lap, suddenly nervous. He busies his hands with another crown, this one a bit smaller.
“What’s that one for?” Blitzø asks, tilting his head.
“Well, it seems to me that both of your gorgeous heads deserve a crown,” Stolas starts, eying the length between Blitzø’s legs. It perks up under his attention, hardening slightly, the spikes on the underside just barely visible. Stolas coos, feathers puffing, in awe at his ability to make Blitzø hard even though he’s just cum. “Don’t you think, darling?”
For a moment, Stolas worries he’s overstepped, maybe gotten too… silly. But then Blitzø laughs a loud, full laugh, and the muscles of his stomach jump with the sound. Stolas blushes and laughs with him, feeling warm and happy and lighter than he ever has.
He finishes up the crown and holds it up, winking at the imp next to him. Blitzø smirks a little and puts his hands behind his head, striking a truly dashing pose. “Okay, then, go ahead and crown my cock, Stolas.”
“Delighted to,” Stolas says, getting up onto his knees and hovering over Blitzø. He arches his back and sticks his ass up, his tail fanning out behind him. Below him, he spies how Blitzø’s cock hardens a bit more, standing at full attention now. Slowly, Stolas places the crown over it, letting the leaves and petals brush deep red skin on the way down. When the crown settles at the base, Stolas can’t help the way his talons curl automatically, tightening and stroking upwards. The spikes on Blitzø’s cock tickle his palms and Blitzø hums beneath him.
“You said these are edible, right?” Blitzø asks, shifting his hips in the dirt. One hand goes to the back of Stolas’ head, guiding him to hover his beak over that gorgeous, adorned cock. “Go ahead and swallow them up, birdy.”
Stolas wiggles his ass happily and deepthroats Blitzø’s length immediately, sliding down until he’s got the combination of salty skin, sweet pansies, and peppery nasturtium petals in his throat. Blitzø’s head tips back and Stolas looks up, thrilling in the pleasure he can read on the imp’s face. The matching crown across his forehead swishes with the movement.
Stolas closes his eyes and works his tongue, lavishing Blitzø with all his focus, all the finesse and technique he’s learned from these nights together. Blitzø’s claws tighten in his feathers as Stolas bobs his head, keeping him close as he begins thrusting down Stolas’ throat. Stolas chirps happily and then both of Blitzø’s hands are in his feathers, locking him in place.
As if there’s anywhere Stolas would rather be than here, decorating his lover with kisses and flowers, covered in dirt, sweat, and cum, claimed out in the open for anyone to see. Taking a deep breath, Stolas hums as he continues suckling at Blitzø’s cock, the night ahead stretching before him with all the promise of a fresh bloom.
**
Sitting at his desk the next Monday, Blitzø hums to himself as he doodles a picture on his notes.
art by @HellaBitterHaze
He smiles to himself and then looks around, making sure no one caught him being so fucking gushy. He hurriedly tucks the little picture away in his drawer with the Stolas horsey and all the other doodles he does of that stupidly gorgeous bird and their stupidly good nights.